'I suspect that no further proof is needed,' said Drumknott, with his little secretarial smile.
'Although I would, in fairness, point out that Charlotte of the Times is emerging as the most fearsome crossword compiler of all time, and they are a pretty fearsome lot. But her? Initialisms, odds and evens, hidden words, container reverses, and now diagonals! How does she do it?'
'Well, you did it, sir.'
'I undid it. That is much easier.' Vetinari raised a finger. 'It is that woman who runs the pet shop in Pellicool Steps, depend upon it. She hasn't been mentioned as a winner recently. She must be compiling the things.'
'The female mind is certainly a devious one, my lord.'
Vetinari looked at his secretary in surprise. 'Well, of course it is. It has to deal with the male one. I think - '
There was a gentle tap at one of the doors. The Patrician turned back to the Times while Drumknott slipped out of the room. After some whispered exchanges, the secretary returned.
'It would appear that a young woman has got in via the back gate by bribing the guards, sir. They accepted the bribes, as per your standing orders, and she has been shown into the anteroom, which she will soon find is locked. She wishes to see you because, she says, she has a complaint. She is a maid.'
Lord Vetinari looked over the top of the paper. 'Tell her I can't help her with that. Perhaps, oh, I don't know, a different perfume would help?'
'I mean she is a member of the serving classes, sir. Her name is Glenda Sugarbean.'
'Tell her - ' Vetinari hesitated, and then smiled. 'Ah, yes, Sugarbean. Did she bribe the guards with food? Something baked, perhaps?'
'Well done, sir! A large Jammy Devil apiece. May I ask how - ?'
'She is a cook, Drumknott, not a maid. Show her in, by all means.'
The secretary looked a little resentful. 'Are you sure this is wise, sir? I have already told the guards to throw the foodstuffs away.'
'Food cooked by a Sugarbean? You may have committed a crime against high art, Drumknott. I shall see her now.'
'I must point out that you have a full schedule this morning, my lord.'
'Quite so. It is your job to point this out, and I respect that. But I did not return until half past four this morning and I distinctly remember stubbing my toe on the stairs. I am as drunk as a skunk, Drumknott, which of course means skunks are just as drunk as I. I must say the term is unfamiliar to me, and I had not thought hitherto of skunks in this context, but Mustrum Ridcully was kind enough to enlighten me. Allow me, then, a moment of indulgence.'
'Well, you are the Patrician, sir,' said Drumknott. 'You can do as you please.'
'That is kind of you to say so, but I did not, in fact, need reminding,' said Vetinari, with what was almost certainly a smile.
When the severe thin man opened the door, it was too late to flee. When he said, 'His lordship will see you now, Miss Sugarbean,' it was too late to faint. What had she been thinking of? Had she been thinking at all?
Glenda followed the man into the next room, which was oak panelled and sombre and the most uncluttered office she had ever seen. The room of the average wizard was so stuffed with miscellaneous things that the walls were invisible. Here, even the desk was clear, apart from a pot of quill pens, an inkwell, an open copy of the Ankh-Morpork Times and¨Cher eye stayed fixed on this one, unable to draw itself away¨Ca mug with the slogan 'To the world's Greatest Boss'. It was so out of place it might have been an intrusion from another universe.
A chair was quietly placed behind her. This was just as well, because when the man at the desk looked up she sat down abruptly.
Vetinari pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Miss... Sugarbean, there are whole rooms in this palace full of people who want to see me, and they are powerful and important people, or at least they think they are. Yet Mister Drumknott has kindly inserted in my schedule, ahead of the Postmaster General and the Mayor of Sto Lat, a meeting with a young cook with her coat on over her apron and an intent, it says here, of "having it out with me". And this is because I take notice of incongruity, and you, Miss Sugarbean, are incongruous. What is it you want?'
'Who says I want anything?'
'Everyone wants something when they are in front of me, Miss Sugarbean, even if it is only to be somewhere else.'
'All right! You made all the captains drunk last night and got them to sign that letter in the paper!'
The stare did not flicker. That was much worse than, well, anything.
'Young lady, drink levels all mankind. It is the ultimate democrat, if you like that sort of thing. A drunk beggar is as drunk as a lord, and so is a lord. And have you ever noticed that all drunks can understand one another, no matter how drunk they are and how different their native tongues? I take it for a certainty that you are a relation to Augusta Sugarbean?' The question, tagged on to the praises of inebriation, hit her between the eyes, scattering her thoughts.
'What? Oh. Well, yes. That's right. She was my grandmother.'
'And she was a cook at the Guild of Assassins when she was younger?'